


Seeing Blind

by gildedmagnolia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blind Date, Complete, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, New Friends, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gildedmagnolia/pseuds/gildedmagnolia
Summary: After years of wasting their time, Harry and Hermione make a promise to swear off blind dates, forever this time. A pair of meddling friends are determined to change their minds -- and help them see each other in a different light.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 23
Kudos: 130
Collections: Prompt Bank Garage Sale





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [HarmonyandCo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmonyandCo/pseuds/HarmonyandCo) in the [PromptBankGarageSale](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PromptBankGarageSale) collection. 



> Author’s Note: Hello, everyone! Thanks for popping by! First, I wanted to give a quick thanks to the lovely metaphasia, who did the beta reading for this story and made it easily a million times better. I sincerely couldn’t have done this without you! Also, I especially need to thank David C. Jr. (BrightsideDC) for the prompt that made this happen. It started as an idea for a one-shot and pretty much ballooned out of control from there, but I’ve loved writing it. Thanks, David, for the inspiration! I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> A more fact-based AN: Bogart here is Humphrey Bogart, the American actor from the 1940’s famous for his roles in films like Casablanca, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, and The Maltese Falcon.
> 
> Prompt: Harry and Hermione have been set up on a blind date - little do they know, it’s with each other.

* * *

It was Friday night, and Hermione was sitting on her couch in her favorite holey pajamas, reading the latest copy of _Potioneers Monthly_. It had become a bit of a habit for her. She came home from her job in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, changed into her most comfortable clothes, and settled in with the newest academic publication that caught her eye. Part of her thought it was a bit sad, really, but it beat the alternative. Hermione was single, and she had zero faith in the current dating scene. She occasionally let a friend set her up with someone, but that rarely ended well. So she’d created her own weekend rituals, things to keep her mind busy and her heart content. Well, content enough.

She was engrossed in an article about the mutable properties of lacewing flies when her Floo roared to life. 

“Shit—Hermione?” a frantic voice hissed through the flames. “ _Hermione_? Are you still awake?”

She dashed across the room and crashed to her knees in front of the fireplace. “What’s wrong, Harry?”

Even blurred by the embers, she could tell his responding grin was a bit sheepish. “Uh, nothing’s wrong, not really. I was just wondering if you were awake, and I didn’t realize what time it was until after I’d already started the call, and I didn’t want to wake you if you’d already gone to bed—”

“Let me rephrase then: What’s going on, Harry?” she asked, unamused.

His smile twisted into a grimace. “Would you mind coming over for a little while? I had a shit night, and I don’t want to end the day that way.”

“Of course,” she said immediately. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Hermione quickly changed into more presentable loungewear and Apparated to the living room of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Harry was sprawled across the warm leather sofa, his tie hanging loose around his neck. His shoes had been toed off and allowed to fall haphazardly beneath him, and his dark hair stuck up at all angles, as though a hand had been run through it many times. The image was a bit forlorn but not unfamiliar to Hermione. The open bottle of firewhiskey on the table and the empty tumbler dangling from his fingers, however, sent her eyebrows rocketing upward. “It really was a shit night, huh?”

“Shit week, really.” Harry grunted as he sat up. “I had a rough few days revising with this Auror class. They’ve got a Stealth final next week, then a few more tests before the final practical exam. Ron thought he was helping ‘relieve some of my stress’ by setting me up on a blind date.”

Hermione groaned and collapsed on the sofa with him. “Not Ron and his blind dates. You know, last time he set me up with a reserve Beater for the Arrows. The guy never took his eyes off my chest—not once the whole night!”

“This girl wasn’t any better,” Harry lamented. “She kept dropping little hints, asking all these probing questions about my investment portfolio, the Potter estate, ‘wondering’ how big the diamonds in my cufflinks were.” He allowed himself a little chuckle. “You should have seen the way she snatched her hand back when I told her they were fake.”

“But they’re not,” Hermione said with a frown. “I bought you those last year for your birthday.”

Harry shrugged. “I know that, and you know that. But I wanted to see how she would react. She practically ran out the door after she finished her glass of wine.”

“God, where does Ron meet these girls?”

“I guess that’s Quidditch fangirls for you. On the bright side, at least I didn’t have to suffer through dessert, too.”

Hermione threw her head back and laughed. “I think I can take care of that one. Want to put on a movie and eat ice cream straight from the carton?”

Harry grinned. “Most definitely. How would you feel about _The Maltese Falcon_?” 

She stood up and headed for the kitchen. “That sounds perfect. You go upstairs and change, and I’ll grab the ice cream.”

Hermione was popping the DVD into place when Harry came back into the living room, clad in comfortable sweats and carrying a thick blanket. “Did you remember to get two spoons?”

She grabbed the pair of spoons from on top of the carton beside her and waved them at him. 

“Stupid question,” he muttered, settling under the blanket and then lifting it to let her crawl under too. 

Hermione passed him a spoon and then clinked her own against it. “Here’s to dumping a crappy blind date for Bogart and Butter Pecan.”

“Ugh, you picked this flavor, didn’t you?”

“I won the coin toss!”

“You always win the coin toss,” he grumbled, popping the lid off the carton anyway. “And I’m quitting blind dates. For good.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You said that last time, and the time before that, and the time before that. So did I.”

“And look where that’s gotten us!” he cried. 

She tilted her head in capitulation—she _never_ wanted a repeat of her last blind date. 

Harry sighed deeply. “I’m perfectly content with my life as it is. I don’t need to go on a date just for the sake of going on a date. Next time, I want it to be because I like the person. I want to go out _knowing_ there’s a good chance I’ll enjoy myself.”

“You’re right,” Hermione said, sitting up straight. “Why should we continue to subject ourselves to hours of sub-par social interaction for the sole purpose of going on a date? We’re perfectly fine as single people.”

“Hear hear!” 

She held up her utensil as if it were a champagne flute. “Here’s to the end of crappy blind dates.”

They clinked their spoons together and tucked into the slightly melted tub of ice cream.

* * *

“All I’m saying is I’m pretty sure my secretary is trying to kill me.”

Hermione dabbed her mouth with her napkin and shook her head. “Honestly, Harry, you shouldn’t give Matilda such a hard time. She’s your secretary. It’s her _job_ to create your schedule and keep you on track. You can’t make your agenda burst into flames like that just because you don’t like it.”

“You act like I set her whole desk on fire.” Harry rolled his eyes. 

“You could have if I hadn’t doused the flames. There was no reason to be so… so… _ridiculous_ about asking her to rearrange your schedule.”

“That woman is ridiculous! I swear she thinks that once something is on the schedule for a certain time, it’s held there by some Unbreakable Vow. She’s completely incapable of moving things around. I was really helping her, if you think about it. And besides that, she knows better than to schedule something for my lunch hour on Mondays.”

Hermione gave a resigned huff, which sent a strand of hair flying. “Not quite the rational reason I was hoping for.”

“My best friend was waiting on me to leave for our weekly lunch. Seemed like a good enough reason to me,” he replied, shooting her his most winning smile. 

Hermione swatted him with her napkin, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. She was glad that he held these Monday lunches as sacred as she did. With both their busy schedules, sometimes it was the only time they had together all week. Sure, they occasionally went to a pub or a Quidditch match with the rest of their friends on the weekend, but she cherished her time alone with him. “Still, you should apologize.”

Harry held up his hands in defeat. “I’ll stop by Neville’s and buy her some flowers on my way back to the office.”

“Good,” Hermione said firmly. “Now, what else was on the schedule that you so unceremoniously reduced to ash?”

He pulled a face. “Well, I was planning on getting some paperwork done, but I think I have a new Auror to get oriented as well.”

“I thought the new class didn’t finish until next month,” she said with a frown. 

“They don’t—this guy just moved here from Spain. Er, I think it was Spain,” Harry explained. “I do know that he’s been in law enforcement for almost two decades, and he’s got great recommendations, so I’m not all that worried about it. Once he gets used to the Ministry floor plan and changes in administrative stuff, he’ll be fine.”

Hermione nodded. “That’s good. It would be a pain to have to retrain a new person while you’re trying to get the Auror class ready for their exams _and_ manage your case load. Overworking yourself all the time isn’t good for you.”

“You would know,” he teased. “Tell me, what new project are you starting this week? Saving the rainforest?”

“No, I told you I finished that up last month, remember? The Brazilian Ministry was quite open to my suggestions, so I think—”

She stopped talking when she realized Harry was sniggering and stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Very mature, Hermione,” he chuckled. “Seriously though, how is the Department of International Magical Cooperation keeping you busy this week? You’ve been very hush hush about work since the Brazil thing.”

Hermione sighed and picked at her piece of fish. “I suppose I can tell you now that it’s a sure thing. St. Mungo’s has put together what they’re calling a “colloquium on integrating Muggle technology into magical healing”. 

“That’s a mouthful,” he muttered. 

“Tell me about it,” she said with a giggle. “It’s basically a think tank kind of thing. The participants have been encouraged to bring their ‘odd’ cases that involve Muggle medicine so new eyes and new ideas could have a go at them. They’re hoping to figure out how some Muggle treatments have been used and effectively integrate them into magical medicine. We’ve got over a hundred people coming in from hospitals and clinics all over the world, so I’ve been coordinating with their governments and medical institutions to make sure everyone had the right credentials and subsequent paperwork for the job. Everyone should arrive by this afternoon, and the official research begins on Wednesday. St. Mungo’s and Kingsley have asked me to stay on with the group indefinitely.”

“What do they want you to do?” Harry asked, his brow furrowed. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re brilliant and I’m sure you’ll have a lot to add to the conversation, but you’re not a medical expert.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Harry, but I’ll mostly be there as the official liaison to the British Ministry. Diplomatic purposes and all that. Though Kingsley seems to think I’ll be of some use to the group as well, seeing as I’m a Muggle-born and have some experience with Muggle healthcare in Britain.”

“And your parents are dentists,” he added, pointing his fork at her. “You have a point of contact in case questions come up.”

“That’s true,” Hermione conceded, a smile tugging at her lips. 

“This sounds like a big deal for your career.”

“It kind of is,” she said, blushing lightly. “It’s a lot of responsibility, but I’m really honored that Kingsley would trust me with this.”

Harry snorted a laugh. “Like he could dream up anyone better. You’re going to be amazing at this.”

“Thanks, Harry. I, uh, I do have a bit of bad news, though.”

“And what would that be?”

“I don’t know that I’m going to be able to keep up our lunch dates, at least at first,” Hermione said, worrying her lip. “I’m supposed to take lunch with one or two of the group members every day so I can get a feel for how the project is progressing, changes that we could make, things they might need and whatnot. Kingsley asked me to keep it casual, hence the lunch meetings.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “How long is this colloquium thing supposed to last?” 

Hermione refused to meet his eyes and instead flagged down the waiter to ask for the check.

“Hermione,” he hissed as the waiter walked away, “ _how long_?”

“At least a year,” she murmured, “probably more like five. I think I’ll be able to free up my Monday lunch hours after I get to know everyone and let them know I’m available to them. Hopefully that will only take the first several months or so, but for now...”

Harry sat back in his chair and stared at her. She could feel his eyes boring holes in her, but she just kept fidgeting with the hem of her napkin and refused to look at him. 

“I’m not mad, Hermione.”

She looked up. “You’re not?” she asked softly. 

“Of course not,” Harry said. He reached across the table and gently took her hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not happy that I have to give up lunch with you, but I understand why you’ve got to do it. Besides, it can’t last forever. We’ll just have to be better about seeing each other after work or on the weekends.”

Hermione squeezed his hand. “Thanks for understanding. We’ll still see each other, I promise.” She glanced down at the watch on Harry’s wrist. “What time were you supposed to be meeting this new Auror?”

Harry jerked his hand back and cursed under his breath. “In about ten minutes.” His eyes flicked to the kitchen. 

“I’ve got the bill,” she promised. “It’s my turn to pay anyway. Go meet your new Auror.”

“Thanks, Hermione. See you soon.” He planted a quick kiss on her cheek and dashed out the door. 

She smiled sadly, her eyes following him as long as they could. “I really hope so.”

* * *

There was a sharp knock at the door just as Harry sank into his chair. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, glanced at the stack of unfinished paperwork that loomed over his desk, and heaved a sigh. “Come in!”

Matilda Caperton stuck her graying head through the door. “Mr. Potter, your transferring Auror is here,” she croaked. He wasn’t sure how she managed to speak while keeping her face pinched like that, but she’d been doing it since he’d taken over as the Senior Auror in charge of training. That had been five years ago. In all that time, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her smile.

Harry slid his glasses up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thank you, Matilda. Send him on in.”

A moment later, a tall, swarthy man walked in and approached his desk. “Marco DeLuca,” he said with a slight accent. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Auror Potter.”

Harry stood to shake his hand. “Likewise, Inspector DeLuca. Please, have a seat.”

They settled in and Harry pulled DeLuca’s paperwork from a drawer in his desk. 

“You’ve been with the Italian Law Enforcement Bureau for seventeen years. If you don’t mind me asking, why the bloody hell would anyone want to leave the world of wine, pasta, and Mediterranean weather for England of all places?”

DeLuca chuckled, a deep throaty sound. “My wife recently accepted a prestigious position here in London. I didn’t want to be away from her. I wouldn’t make it a month on my own.”

Harry’s eyebrow raised of its own volition.

“She’s the love of my life,” DeLuca said with a shrug. “Besides, I can’t cook for shit. I don’t think my body could handle that much takeout.”

Harry let out a belly laugh of his own. “I understand _that_ completely.”

“I take it you’re married as well?” DeLuca asked. 

“No, my friends have declared me a terminal bachelor,” Harry joked. “I just appreciate good food.”

The corner of DeLuca’s mouth quirked up. “If you ever meet my wife, don’t mention that to her. She fancies herself a bit of a matchmaker.”

“Noted,” Harry said, wincing. He stood and grabbed the robe from the back of his office chair. “Come on, DeLuca. If you’re lucky, we’ll finish your tour _and_ find our way out of this ridiculous maze of a building before dinner time.”

* * *

A few days later, Hermione found herself behind a large table outside St. Mungo’s largest meeting hall with a tall stack of parchment and a bottomless file folder. A lime green and lavender banner bearing the colloquium’s name hung on the wall behind her. As each member approached the table, she planned to take and file away any final paperwork they brought with them and in turn give them an orientation packet. She shuffled her papers and fought not to bounce her leg. Today felt like that first car ride to King’s Cross Station, Hogwarts graduation, and final exams all wrapped into one.

The first person to approach the table was a tall, slender woman who walked with a swagger. Her strong features — prominent nose, large dark brown eyes, high cheekbones — reminded Hermione of her old friend Viktor Krum. Her wavy brown hair flowed around her shoulders, and the morning sun shining through the windows brought out its reddish cast. Everything about her, from her stride to her slight crooked smile, projected an air of confidence and competence. 

When she reached Hermione, the woman extended her hand and said, “My name is Atalanta Kazan, from the Pan-Mediterranean Intensive Hospital. I assume I’m at the right place for the orientation.”

“That you are,” Hermione said, shaking the woman’s hand before picking up her list. “My name is Hermione Granger, and I’ll be the group’s Ministry liaison for the duration of your work here. Let me see… I believe I have all your paperwork on file already…”

“Thank goodness,” Atalanta muttered. When Hermione shot her a quizzical look, she elaborated. “My husband was supposed to post the last of my papers a week ago. He never forgets anything big, like anniversaries or holiday parties, but sometimes the little things—the post, people’s names, turning off the oven—tend to slip his mind.” 

With a chuckle, Hermione looked up from her list. “Well, he remembered this time. A gold star for him!”

Atalanta grinned. “I’ve never heard anyone from the wizarding world use that phrase. You must have been raised in the non-magical world.”

Hermione blushed and tucked an escaped strand of hair behind her ear. “I did. Both of my parents are Muggles. Most witches and wizards don’t notice it when I slip in those kinds of references.”

“Neither of my parents have magic, either. They have medical degrees instead,” Atalanta joked. 

“No way!” Hermione said with a laugh. “My parents are dentists.”

Atalanta’s smile broadened, and Hermione thought the way it lifted the apples of her olive cheeks made her look quite beautiful. 

“How wonderful! It seems we have quite a bit in common,” Atalanta said thoughtfully. “I get a feeling that we could be very good friends, Hermione Granger. And in that case, you should call me Tali.”

“Well Tali, I do believe you’re right,” Hermione agreed, “but in the spirit of things, I think we should test that theory. Would you like to go to lunch with me today?”

Tali nodded, saying, “Absolutely. It will be great to get the inside scoop on Britain’s wizarding community from a local.”

An older gentleman loaded down with rolls of parchment rounded the corner and headed for the table, and Hermione quickly remembered she had a job other than making friends. She picked up a small stack of parchment, bound it at the corner with a Sticking Charm, and passed it across the table. 

“Sounds like a plan, Tali. I’ll meet you back out here when the group breaks for lunch.”

Tali gave her a small nod. “I look forward to it.”

She ducked into the auditorium as Hermione greeted the next attendee.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to my (admittedly quick) Google translations, cara mia is Italian for “my dear”. My sincerest apologies if I’ve butchered the language!

* * *

_ Two months later _

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Hermione gazed sadly into the green flames. “You should see the stack of parchment I brought home with me tonight. We’re going to have to postpone the movie night. Again.”

Harry yawned and ran a hand through his hair. “That’s alright, Hermione. I think it was your turn to call for a rain cheque anyway.”

“I really thought I had everything settled before this ever started,” she said with a pout. “What Kingsley failed to mention was that the rest of my job on this project would be reviewing every proposal, funding request, and memo that came through the pipeline. Lately I’ve been bringing home a waist-high stack of papers. The nights I don’t, I fall right into bed and try to catch up on all the sleep I’ve missed.”

“I know the feeling,” he muttered. 

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on in the Auror’s office? I don’t see you enough to keep myself abreast of the drama.” 

“Oh, not that much really,” Harry said with a snort. “You know the Ministry — as soon as one Auror class finishes their training, we start the next one. Since the last class just graduated, I’m in the middle of interviewing candidates for the next class, and we’ve had a record number of applicants. Also, Dawlish is finally retiring at the end of the month, so I’ve got to go behind him and fix the reports and forms he half-arsed his way through. And on top of all of that, I can’t remember the combination to my locker in the training rooms, so I’ll probably have to break through the Anti-Theft wards  _ again _ .”

She fought back a giggle. “And here I thought you were a busy man, Harry Potter.”

Harry smiled at her apparent mirth. “Laugh it up, Granger. At least I won’t get premature arthritis from gripping a quill twenty-four seven.”

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

“Thank God there’s only two of us. The world certainly couldn’t handle any more.”

The smile slipped from Hermione’s face. “I really am sorry about having to cancel on you, Harry. I was looking forward to it.”

“And it really is alright,” Harry echoed. “We knew we were going to be busy for a few months. I just don’t think either of us bargained on how busy we would be.”

“Tell me this is all going to be worth it.”

Harry nodded at her. “Someday, when you’re Minister of Magic, you’ll look back at all the work you put into this project—” 

“And laugh at how busy I thought I was.”

“No!” he cried. “You’ll be glad for the experience, because after you get through all this shit, delegating all the Ministerial stuff should be a piece of cake.”

It was Hermione’s turn to chuckle. “Thanks, Harry. For what it’s worth, I think you’re going to feel the same way. Heading the DMLE and the Auror Corps is no picnic, but I know you’ll be ready for it when the time comes.”

Harry beamed at her. “You always know what to say.”

A beat of silence passed as their thoughts inevitably circled back to their current reality — being ridiculously overworked and having no time for a personal life, not even to hang out with their best friend.

Harry heaved a sigh. “I know we’re busy climbing the ladder, but I miss getting to see just you. I didn’t realize how much everything was actually changing. I don’t think I like it.”

“Exactly,” Hermione agreed. “I mean, it was great to see everyone at Ron’s Quidditch match last week, and last month when we all went out for drinks, but it’s just not the same. It’s never just the two of us anymore.”

“I know. But we  _ are  _ going to get through this,” Harry promised. “Just hang in there.”

“I miss you terribly,” she whispered into the flames. 

“Miss you more.”

* * *

“How are you holding up, Chief?”

Harry scowled at the man sitting down across the lunch table from him. “Dammit DeLuca, that makes me sound like the boss in some old cop film. It’s Harry or Potter or almost anything  _ other  _ than Chief.”

“Sure thing, Chief,” Marco said with a grin. “So what have you been up to lately? Other than work, I mean.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry replied, “Absolutely nothing. Robards has me loaded down with enough work for three people. I don’t have time for a social life outside of work.”

“Seriously, Chief? No night out? No drinks with friends? No date with a pretty girl?”

“Nope. My only dates have been with Form 394-L and a stack of reports to be fixed.”

“ _ Amico _ , you’re too young to be such a workaholic. You need to get out more!”

“I get out,” Harry huffed. “I’ve been out for drinks with friends a few times lately, and last week I even made it to a Quidditch match.”

“Then all you’re missing a nice date every now and again. Next time you’re out with your friends, find a pretty girl and ask her to dinner.”

“Yeah, no.”

“Come on, man. Where’s all that ‘Gryffindor bravery’ I’ve heard about?”

Harry heaved a sigh. “It has nothing to do with putting myself out there, Marco. You have to understand that Britain’s wizarding community has a tendency to be a bit… fanatical. After the war with Voldemort, people who were known to have played a large part in his defeat, like my friends and I… Well, everyone wanted a piece of us. Still do, for the most part. It’s hard to meet women or even just make new friends who are interested in who I am, not what I’ve done, or worse, what I’ve inherited.”

“My wife and I don’t care about any of that!”

The corner of Harry’s mouth quirked up. “Are you inviting me to shag you and your wife?”

“No, you prat,” said Marco, grinning in spite of himself. “Come over for dinner on Friday, meet my Tali, have a good meal. We could use the company as well. And I’m sure once she gets to know you, Tali could set you up with someone from work. She’s been talking about this friend—”

“No,” Harry said, cutting him off. “Not going to happen.”

“Why not?” Marco pouted. 

“I have decided to swear off blind dates.”

“Because of the money and fame thing.”

“Because of the money and fame thing,” Harry confirmed. “I need to get to know someone before I go out with them. I don’t want to be blindsided by another fangirl.”

“Fine,” Marco said, sighing dramatically. “I’ll just have to crush my poor wife’s matchmaking heart.”

“Good man. Though if the offer of dinner still stands…”

“I’ll have Tali set another place for Friday night. Seven thirty alright with you?”

“Sounds perfect.”

* * *

Harry shoved his chair back from the dinner table and patted his full stomach. “That was lovely, Tali. Thank you.” The entire evening had been lovely, really. Marco and Tali told him quite a lot about their lives back in Italy, and Tali had entertained him with a few tales from her childhood in Greece. In return, Harry had shared a tiny bit about his own life. He’d been much more interested in hearing their stories, though.

Marco threw an arm around his wife. “See? I told you I couldn’t survive on take away after ten years of that.”

“You wouldn’t survive without me because I am the light of your life and your reason for being,” Tali said, eyes alight with mirth.

“You’re absolutely right,  _ cara mia _ .”

Tali turned to Harry. “We’ll have to do this again soon. I’ve so missed dinner parties with our friends.”

“Hey, anytime you want another mouth to feed, you can count me in,” Harry said with a laugh. 

“Perhaps next time you’ll bring a friend,” Marco suggested.

“I would if they weren’t so busy,” Harry said sadly. 

“Then bring a date,” Tali replied. 

Harry tugged at his collar. “I, uh, I don’t really date. Haven’t had much luck with that lately.”

“Then I’ll find a date for you!” Tali offered. “I was quite the matchmaker back in Italy, you know.”

Harry could already see the wheels turning in her mind. “That’s really okay.”

“Nonsense,” Tali said. “It’s the perfect setting for a blind date. If she’s terrible, we’ll be here to serve as a buffer. If she’s  _ really  _ terrible, we’ll even kick her out before dessert.”

Harry chuckled in spite of himself. “Thanks for the offer, Tali, but I’ve kind of sworn off blind dates. They never end well for me, and I’m tired of being so irritated by something that should be enjoyable.”

“Alright then, have it your way. I’ll not meddle in your love life,” Tali said, her hands held up in supplication. 

Despite her promise, the steely look in Tali’s eyes reminded him of Hermione. He shuddered at the thought. If those two ever met, together they’d be able to take over the world and have everyone eating out of their hands while they did so.

“We’ll have to do this again, yeah?” Marco asked. 

“Most definitely,” Harry agreed. He rose and walked toward the door, his friends at his heels. “Thank you again for a lovely evening.”

Tali kissed him lightly on each cheek. “Thank you as well, Harry. I look forward to next week.”

As the door shut behind their guest, Tali turned to her husband. Her shoulders were slumped, though she had a smile plastered across her face. 

“He’s such a lovely young man.”

“He’s wonderful,” Marco agreed. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know him.”

Tali sighed and ran a hand through her brown hair. “It’s such a shame he won’t go on a blind date. I have a friend from work who would be a  _ perfect  _ match for him.”

“You can lead a horse to water…” Marco said as he opened his arms to her.

“I know, I know.” She stepped into his embrace and burrowed into his chest. “But my gut says I shouldn’t give up just yet.”

“And I know how much you rely on that gut of yours,” he teased.

“I’m going to invite Hermione over for dinner,” she said, ignoring him. “Maybe if I can make  _ you  _ see how perfect they would be together, you could talk to Harry. He might listen to you.”

Marco dropped a kiss into her hair. “You’re a menace, love.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

“Right you are.”

* * *

Tali began her pitch obliquely. “So, did you do anything exciting this weekend?”

Hermione heaved a sigh. “Oh, nothing too crazy. Just a bit of paperwork.” 

“You really must get out more,” Tali said, stabbing a fork at her salad. “You’re young and beautiful and should be utterly carefree. Everytime we have lunch on Monday, you tell me you spent the weekend doing paperwork. You deserve romance and fun!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’ll have time for romance and fun later, when I’ve gotten a bit more used to my role with the colloquium. Right now, the only men I have time to meet are the ones written about in case reports and research proposals.”

“Why don’t you let me set you up with someone?”

“I don’t go on blind dates,” Hermione replied, her eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s why I specifically said ‘meet’. I don’t go out with men I don’t know.”

Tali’s bottom lip rolled out in a very convincing pout. 

“Don’t give me that look,” Hermione said, laughing in spite of herself. “I’ve had enough bad blind dates to last a lifetime. If I’m going on a bad date in the future, it’s going to be my own fault.”

Tali perked up. “What if I could promise it would be a  _ good  _ blind date?”

Hermione shook her head firmly. “I don’t have time to meet people myself, so I’m swearing off dating for right now. If that means my social calendar is a bit empty for a time, then so be it. No blind dates.”

“Well you shouldn’t have to completely sacrifice your social life for this job,” Tali relented. “You could at least have dinner at mine this weekend.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly…”

“Hermione, you must! My husband and I so desperately miss having dinner with our friends back in Rome. It’s only the two of us here, and I can only hear his stories from work so many times before I explode. Please, relieve some of the monotony.” 

Hermione chewed thoughtfully. “I really don’t think I have the time, Tali. I have so much paperwork left to review for this week already…”

Tali snorted indelicately. “I assure you, the paperwork will still be there when we’re finished. Besides, when was the last time you had a bit of fun? You’ve run yourself ragged for this job. You need to find some balance.”

“You’re probably right,” Hermione conceded. “What did you have in mind?”

“Friday night at mine. Seven thirty.”

Hermione thought for a moment. “That would leave me all of Saturday and Sunday to catch up. I suppose I could do that.”

Tali clapped excitedly. Maybe all hope wasn’t lost just yet.

* * *

At 7:15, Tali pulled the warm, crusty bread out of the oven and placed it in a basket lined with a crisp white cloth. She carried the basket in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other, and followed her husband into the dining room. The smell of fresh pasta and ripe tomatoes trailed behind him, and she breathed it in deeply.

“Did you put out the red wine glasses?” she asked, depositing her items in the center of the table. “You know sangiovese just isn’t the same in the wrong glasses, and I need everything to be perfect.”

Marco rolled his eyes and kissed her playfully on the cheek. “Yes, Tali. You worry too much. We’re doing this so that I can get to know your friend and so that she can have a good time. We’ll make sure that happens, with or without the perfect wine glass.”

Tali let out a deep breath. “You’re right. But Hermione is so focused on her job, and I need to remind her that she needs a life outside of work. I just don’t want to mess it up.”

“And you really want me to agree with you that she’s a good match for Harry.”

“Well, that too.”

Marco placed a soft kiss on her temple. “It’s going to be a wonderful evening. But remember, not everything in life can work out as perfectly as it does in your head,  _ cara mia _ .”

The chime of the doorbell echoed through the flat, putting an end to the moment. 

“Come on, that must be her,” Marco said, releasing his wife. “We’re going to have a fine time tonight with this Harmony you speak so highly of.”

“Hermione,” Tali corrected absently. 

“Her-MY-oh-nee.” Marco tried to wrap his mouth around the name. “Well, I look forward to meeting her. Anyone you think is good enough for Harry is certainly going to make an interesting dinner guest. 

Tali snickered at the thought. “Oh, just wait.”

Marco opened the door to a woman with a bright smile and wild brown hair that had clearly been wrestled into a calmer topknot for the evening. 

“Hermione Granger,” she said, extending her hand. “You must be Marco. Tali has told me so much about you.”

He took her hand enthusiastically. “Likewise, Hermione. Please come in.”

Marco led her to the dining room, and Hermione greeted Tali with a brief hug. 

“I’m so glad you made it,” Tali said, releasing her. 

Hermione glanced at the table, and when she opened her mouth to respond, she did a double take. 

“There are four plates.”

It was more a question than a statement, and Tali could see the wariness in the set of Hermione’s jaw.

“It’s out of habit more than anything,” Marco assured her. “With four chairs at the table, everything just looks more balanced if we set four places as well. Have no fear, it’s just the three of us tonight.”

Hermione brightened. “Oh, lovely. Tali, I meant to ask you if you’d made it down to Blossom and Bush yet, but this flower arrangement looks like one of Neville’s.”

“Yes, it is,” Tali replied. “He was so knowledgeable, and he is just adorable…”

As the night wore on, Marco quickly became enchanted by the young British girl who was his wife’s closest friend here. Hermione was brilliant and witty and warm, and she seemed to be as down to earth as anyone he’d met. He was sure that Harry would be enamored with her if he would only agree to meet her. 

As they bid Hermione goodbye and watched her step out into the night, Marco wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist. 

“Alright, you’ve got me convinced,” he said, giving her a secret smile. “Harry would love her, and vice versa.”

Tali beamed up at him. “You really think so?”

Marco nodded. “It sounds like they're exactly what each other is looking for.”

“So do I, darling. So do I.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up. In this chapter, Hermione discusses some possible uses for Muggle drugs in treating (or augmenting treatments for) magical diseases. Specifically, she talks about rheumatoid arthritis. If this is a trigger for you (or bothers you or even just bores you), please skip the content between the asterisks. Also, for those of you medically inclined readers, I’m definitely playing fast and loose with the concept of immune response, so just go with me on this? Thanks!

* * *

_ Friday _

Tali dropped her fork onto her empty plate and smiled contentedly. “You’re a pretty good cook yourself, Harry. Thank you for dinner.”

“Thank you for coming,” Harry replied. “I’ve got this house all to myself, and it’s nice to have other people over from time to time.”

“So do you have any plans for the rest of your weekend?” Marco asked, taking a sip from his water glass.

“I’m actually headed out to meet a friend for drinks.”

Tali perked up. “A friend? Or a lady friend?”

Harry rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. She’s my best friend from school.”

“Well she’s got to be pretty amazing to be a friend of Harry Potter,” Marco said. “What’s she like? Sweet? Funny? Smart?”

“She’s bloody brilliant, that’s what she is,” Harry said reverently. A small smile crept across his face. “I would have died loads of time if she hadn’t been around. But she’s really a great person too, you know? She’s funny, and she’s determined, and she cares  _ so  _ much about making the world a better place. She swears one day she’s going to be the Minister of Magic, and I believe her. Hermione can do anything she sets her mind to.”

Tali gasped, breathing in what felt like half her glass of water. As she coughed and mopped at her face, Marco turned to pat her back and tried to hide the surprise written all over his face.

Harry frowned at his friends. “Did I say something wrong?” 

“Not at all,” Tali croaked. “That last bit of water just went down wrong.”

Harry’s frown deepened. “If you say so.”

“Anyhow, we should get out of your hair,” Marco said as he pulled his wife to her feet. “Don’t want to make you late to meet your friend.”

They were halfway to the front door by the time Harry exited the dining room.

“Alright then,” Harry called after them. “See you later.”

On the front step of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Tali looked up excitedly at her husband. “It’s got to be her. How many other Hermiones can there be in Britain?”

“You don’t know that,” Marco chided her. “For all we know it’s a very common name here.”

“One way to find out,” Tali said with a grin. Then she turned on her heel, and her husband followed right after.

The moment her feet landed back in their own living room, Tali took off at a run. She tossed some Floo powder into the fireplace and called out Hermione’s address. A moment later, Hermione’s face appeared in front of her.

“Tali,” Hermione said, concern clear in her voice, “is everything alright? You never firecall me, especially on the weekend.”

Tali waved her hand dismissively. “Of course, Hermione. I just wanted to see if you had plans for the evening. I worry about you staying in so much.”

Hermione beamed. “I actually do have plans tonight. I’m meeting my best friend for drinks. I’d planned to stay in because I still have  _ so  _ much paperwork to catch up on, but I let him talk me into going out for a drink. We haven’t seen much of each other lately because of our jobs, and I miss hanging out with just him. He’s worth staying a little behind my paperwork for. ”

“I’m glad to see you’re living a little,” Tali said. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she had to fight to keep the triumphant grin off her face. “I won’t keep you then. Have fun with your friend.”

“Thank you, I will! Have a good night!”

The firecall ended, and Tali flopped back against the carpet, relieved and excited at the same time. 

“You do realize what this means,” Marco said from above her.

“It means they’re best friends! They already know each other. They can’t use that little loophole to get out of a date now! Hah!”

Marco shook his head. “It also means they may have tried dating in the past and it didn’t work out.”

“Even if that’s true,” Tali argued, “that’s in the past.”

“Maybe they simply don’t have feelings for each other.”

Tali scoffed. “If they don’t have feelings for each other, it’s probably because they haven’t let themselves. They just need one date, one time together without seeing the other simply as Harry or Hermione. They would be head over heels by the end of the night.”

“Where are you going with this?” Marco asked dubiously. “I know how you love to meddle.”

“I know I said I wouldn’t try to set them up,” she replied. “But now that we know them better —  _ and  _ we know that they would be perfect for each other — maybe we can convince them to agree to a blind date? Even if we have to be a little tricky about it?”

Marco looked into his wife’s eyes. They shone with excitement and hope — hope that their friends could be as lucky in love as they had been.

“Fine,” he sighed, his lip quirking up on one side. “It’s a good thing I fell in love with your scheming, too.”

* * *

“ _ Harry _ !”

Harry braced himself as he was nearly bowled over by the body that launched into him. He squeezed it tightly and then stepped back, chuckling.

“It’s good to see you too, Hermione.”

She grinned up at him. “God, I feel like I haven’t seen  _ just you _ in forever. Want to grab a table?”

They took a pair of butterbeers from Aberforth and slipped into a booth at the back of the Hog’s Head. 

“How’s everything going with work?” Harry asked, taking a sip.

“It’s been really great,” Hermione replied. She practically buzzed with excitement. “I’m busy literally every minute of the day, but there’s been so much progress. Several of the more puzzling cases have already been solved, and even more are in the works. One of the teams thinks they might even have a working cure for lycanthropy.”

Harry sputtered into his drink. “They’ve  _ what _ ? That’s amazing! How? How can that be?”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all night.”

****** Hermione smiled at him and launched into her story. “There was an older gentleman in Eastern Europe — a Muggle-born who’d been bitten as a young man — and he developed rheumatoid arthritis. That’s not like regular arthritis that a lot of older adults get. With RA, your immune system basically starts attacking a normal part of your own body. That kind of disease is rare among magicals, though not unheard of, but there aren’t any magical cures. This gentleman went to a Muggle doctor for help. Part of his treatment included an immunosuppressant, which basically stops your body’s immune system from attacking you, but it also lowers your immune system’s inability to fight off and neutralize other invaders as well, like bacteria, viruses, and, in this case, the wolfsbane potion.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry said, cocking his head to the side. “So a werewolf’s immune system thinks the wolfsbane is bad for them and attacks it?”

“Precisely,” Hermione replied. “A lot of lycanthropes have mild itching or a slight rash the morning after they’ve taken the wolfsbane. That’s actually their body’s response to the potion — it’s basically an allergic reaction. We didn’t know it until now, but their bodies are trying to neutralize the potion, which means they aren’t getting the full effect.”

“I still don’t understand how this is a cure for lycanthropy,” Harry muttered.

Hermione clucked her tongue, then caught herself. She wasn’t amongst academics and researchers with lifetimes of experience in medicine. This was her best friend who, for all his many talents, didn’t have the background knowledge to make this particular logical leap. Yet here he was, trying to understand her work and why it mattered so much.

“Shortly after the man started taking his immunosuppressant there was a full moon, so he also took his wolfsbane potion,” she explained. “The immunosuppressant had already knocked back his immune system quite a bit, so there was nothing left to neutralize the wolfsbane potion. After three months of taking both the immunosuppressant and the wolfsbane, the man stopped transforming altogether. Clinically, he’s considered cured.”

****** “That’s absolutely amazing,” Harry breathed. “Why isn’t this on the front page of every newspaper in the magical world? People would be thrilled!”

Hermione shook her head and smiled. “Just because it worked once doesn’t mean it will work again. And maybe there are other medications with fewer side effects, like antihistamines, that could work just as well. There will have to be proposals and trials and data analysis, all kinds of other work done before we can officially call it a cure. But we’re definitely getting there. In fact, I spent most of this week drafting an outline of a proposal to the Wizengamot to get more funding for the trial arm here in Britain. I don’t anticipate a lot of pushback, but you never…”

Harry watched her gesticulate wildly as she got deeper into her speech. Most of it was over his head, and in the past he might have stopped her and asked her to dumb it down. But right now it was much more fun to watch her talk unencumbered about the things she was passionate about. Instead, he just sat back and listened. He also pointedly ignored the way the sparkle in her brown eyes shot a jolt of warmth straight to his chest.

“Enough about what I’ve been doing,” Hermione chirped. “What have you been up to the past few months?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Nothing nearly that exciting. We finally selected the candidates for the next Auror class, so they’ll start training in two weeks. They’re a pretty good bunch of recruits, but the first few months are always the hardest. The Auror that transferred in has done a good job of stepping into Dawlish’s shoes, so I think he may be getting officially promoted to the position sometime this month. I’ve actually gotten to be pretty good friends with him and his wife.”

“I’m glad you’ve made some new friends,” she said, smiling. “I’ve met a few really great people through work, but I was worried about you.”

“Me?” Harry asked. 

Hermione raised one eyebrow. “I know how you can be.” She threw a hand across her forehead and stared despondently out the window. ‘Woe is me, I’m Harry Potter. No one understands me, and I’m all alone. Oh well, let me sit in my giant empty house and wallow.’”

Harry grabbed a shriveled peanut from the bowl on the table and tossed it at her. “Cut it out.”

When she looked back at him, she saw that he was fighting a smile and losing valiantly.

“I just worry about you,” she told him. 

Harry reached across the table and took her hand. “Thanks, Hermione, but I promise I can take care of myself.”

She shrugged and smiled softly. “I know that, but we’ve been watching each other’s backs for a long time. I can’t think of any reason to stop now.”

Harry’s face softened. “Damn right,” he said, squeezing her hand.

* * *

_ Tuesday _

Hermione stirred her soup absently as she waited for Tali to return from the ladies’ room. To her pleasant surprise, Tali had become a really good friend to her, and they enjoyed grabbing lunch together whenever their schedules lined up. Tali was quite intelligent, had a great sense of humor, and shared several outside interests with Hermione. They never had trouble holding a conversation. Today, though, Tali seemed a bit… distracted. 

Tali dropped silently into her chair across the table. She immediately picked up her fork, but instead of eating she began tapping the handle on the table. The staccato beat was loud enough that other diners stared at her, trying to identify the source of the sound.

Hermione shot her a look. “Everything alright?”

“Just fine,” Tali said. She stopped herself short of the next tap and instead stabbed the utensil at her plate. “How’s the french onion?”

“Very lovely,” she replied. “How’s your salad?”

“Fine, fine.” Tali checked her watch and shifted in her seat.

“So what is your team working on this week?” Hermione asked, trying to lead the conversation  _ somewhere _ , anywhere. “Still stuck on that case with the dragon pox?”

Tali nodded. “Yep, no breakthroughs yet.”

After a long beat of silence, Hermione dropped her own silverware onto the table. 

“Alright, I’ve tried to keep my nose out of it,” she hissed. “But something is up. What’s going on with you?”

“Everything has just gotten so out of sorts,” Tali sighed, “and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Hermione reached across the table and took her hand. “ _ What _ is out of sorts? Is there anything I could do to help?”

Tali’s face lit up. “You’ll help me?”

“Of course!” Hermione replied. “If there’s any way I can help you, I’ll be glad to.”

“Thank you so so so much!”

“You’re welcome,” Hermione said with a chuckle. “Now what is it that I’m doing?”

Tali tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and bit her lip. “So Marco has a friend from work who needs some help getting out and about. He’s just in a tough spot with his job, kind of overworked and underpaid, you know? Anyway, he agreed to let me set him up on a date—”

“I do not like where this is going,” Hermione grumbled.

“I asked Zofia from the Krakow Institute — she’s on my team — if she would go out with him this Friday. She was excited about it, but she’s had some family emergency come up and is taking a Portkey back home this weekend. Now I’ve fallen through on my part of the deal. Marco’s coworker is going to be devastated,” she finished with a pout. “Hermione, will you please help me out? It’s just for one night.”

“Tali, I told you, I don’t do blind dates,” Hermione said firmly.

“You said you were tired of  _ bad  _ blind dates,” Tali fired back. “I know this man. He’s about your age, and he’s witty and fun and oh so gallant. You would have a wonderful time with him.”

“I don’t know… I hate running into former dates in public, and if he works with your husband, this guy works at the Ministry, too. I’d probably see him all the time.” 

“We’d already planned to make it a completely blind date,” Tali pushed. “Using a modified polyjuice, you can transform into me, he can transform into Marco, and if it goes poorly, neither of you will ever have to see each other again. You won’t even know if you pass each other in the street. It will be completely anonymous. And I’ll take care of reservations and the potion. You won’t have to lift a finger.”

“Modified polyjuice?” Hermione asked, momentarily sidetracked. “Modified how? No one modifies polyjuice.”

“You Brits think there’s only one way for everything,” Tali said with a laugh. “So will you do it?”

Hermione looked at her hard. “You owe me one.”

“Absolutely,” Tali agreed quickly. “Now, I’m going to need a couple strands of your hair.”

_ And maybe you’ll change your mind about who owes who after this Friday _ , she mentally tacked on.

* * *

_ Wednesday _

A knock at the door echoed through Harry’s office. 

“Enter!” he called.

Marco entered quietly and shut the door behind him. “Hey Chief.”

“Again, with the ‘Chief’ thing,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“I was hoping I could ask you for a favor.”

Harry’s interest was piqued. Marco never asked for anything. “Of course. How can I help?”

“I’ve screwed up, and my wife is going to kill me.”

“How badly did you screw up?” Harry asked, sitting up straight. “Are we talking ‘flowers and chocolate’ bad? Or ‘I need to be in protective custody’ bad?”

Marco snorted. “More like ‘I may have to sleep on the couch tonight’ bad.”

“Whew,” Harry said with a chuckle. “That sounds like it might actually be fixable. How can I help keep you off the couch?”

“Tali asked me to find her friend a dinner date for Friday night,” he said quickly. “The Auror recruit I asked got his days confused, so he’s actually working this weekend.”

“Matilda makes the schedules.” Harry frowned. “You’ll never get her to change it.”

Marco flopped down into a chair in front of Harry’s desk. “Shit. What am I going to do?”

“Ask someone else?”

“It’s Wednesday,” he moaned. “Who could possibly have the weekend off and—” He glanced over at Harry, and his entire face lit up. 

“Oh no,” Harry said, his hands held up in a defensive stance. “I’ve told you why I don’t do blind dates.”

“But Chief, you would love this girl! She’s smart, and she’s funny, and she’s really down to earth. And besides, Tali already had that part worked out. The girl works in the Ministry too, and she hates randomly running into people she had a bad date with. There’s a modified polyjuice that will let her look like Tali and you look like me. It’ll last all night. The girl won’t know she’s on a date with the ‘rich and famous Harry Potter’. And just think, if it goes poorly, she’ll  _ never  _ have to know who you were, and vice versa. Problem solved.”

Harry took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. He and Hermione had sworn off blind dates, but that felt like so long ago. Marco’s plan sounded reasonable. There were plenty of precautions in place to protect his identity. The date in question actually sounded like an enjoyable person. And it  _ had  _ been months since he’d had any semblance of a social life… 

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” he finally said, and Marco let out a whoop.

“Don’t get too excited, DeLuca. You owe me, and I  _ will  _ collect.”

Marco shot him a strange, secretive smile. “Absolutely, Chief.”

* * *

_ Friday afternoon _

Hermione was burrowed in a pile of dresses on her bed, in utter despair about her lack of date-wear, when her Floo activated. 

“Hermione?” Harry’s voice rang through her flat. “Are you alright?”

She tugged her dressing gown around her and ran to her fireplace. 

“I’m fine, Harry,” she said, blowing a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. “What would make you think otherwise?”

He frowned. “I was just going to pop by your office as I was leaving work, but Boot told me you’d already left for the day. You never take off early, especially not while you have a project.”

Hermione blushed, and then she glanced at the clock. “You’re one to talk! What are  _ you  _ doing home early?”

“I believe I asked you first,” Harry said. His hand appeared in the embers, scratching at the back of his neck. 

“I’m, uh, I’m… meeting up with a friend from work. I left early to get ready.” It wasn’t really a lie, but the way she said it made it sound more like a question. The answer seemed to satisfy Harry, though. 

“Good. You tease me about staying in too much, but this project has taken over your social life as well. I’m glad you’re having some fun.”

“What about you?” Hermione pressed. 

Harry seemed to choose his words carefully. “I, ah, I’m having dinner as well. With that new auror that transferred in. Him and his wife.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.”

“Yep.”

An awkward silence stretched between them. When had their silences become awkward?

“I really should finish getting ready,” Hermione said. 

“Oh, right,” Harry murmured. “I should as well. Have fun tonight.”

“You too.”

The firecall ended, and Hermione groaned. She wished she could call off this date and convince Harry to come eat ice cream and watch movies on her couch instead. And though he would probably laugh at her for falling into the trap of yet another blind date, at least they would be together. She missed her best friend desperately.

But she’d made a promise to Tali. 

Resigned to her fate, Hermione stood and went to dig through her pile of dresses again. Perhaps there was one she’d overlooked.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: This chapter is a bit shorter, but that’s just how the cookie crumbled. How else was I supposed to end it? Only one chapter left, folks. Hope you enjoy this one!

* * *

At exactly a quarter to seven, Hermione's doorbell rang.

"Come in!" she called, fighting with the strap of her black heeled sandal.

Tali breezed into the living room, carrying a vial of deep blue liquid. "One dose of modified polyjuice, at your service."

"I still don't understand how you've modified it," Hermione muttered. She held the vial up to the light and inspected it closely. "What's so different about it?"

"It's designed so that you can change one specific person into another specific person."

Hermione stared at her. "That's possible?"

"Yep. The brewing process is a little different from traditional polyjuice in that you add two different genetic sources. Because the potion has less versatility, it's more stable and can be brewed ahead of time. That's why I asked for your hair that day in the restaurant."

Hermione took a deep breath. "I just have to make sure. You're _positive_ you added the hair I gave you on Tuesday after lunch?"

"Yes of course," Tali assured her, her brows furrowed. "I took it right home, put it in a vial, and marked it. When I needed it, it went straight into the cauldron from the vial. Why do you look so concerned?"

"I've used polyjuice a few times before. My first time, I took hair off a girl's robes thinking it was hers, but I got cat hair instead." Hermione shuddered at the memory.

Tali covered her mouth in a vain attempt to hide her laughter. "Oh my. You'll have to tell me that story sometime."

"Not likely," Hermione groused.

"Come on, now," Tali said, clapping her hands. "Your reservations are at seven. You've got ten minutes to get 'changed' and get there. Chop chop!"

Hermione took one last look at the vial and said, "Bottoms up."

The second she swallowed, Hermione felt the change begin. It was far less painful than with traditional polyjuice, and the potion itself was nowhere near as vile. When she felt her body stop twisting and pulling, Hermione looked in the mirror next to her front door.

She was a spitting image of Tali. Hermione was grateful that they were approximately the same size because that meant she could wear her own clothes. She really liked the dress she'd found in the back of her closet. The deep red dress fell just above her knee, with wide straps and a neckline just low enough to show a little cleavage. It wasn't too revealing, but it had showed off her trim figure well, and it looked good on her as Tali too. Paired with her black heeled sandals as well as the diamond earrings Harry had given her for her birthday last year, she thought she looked just about perfect for dinner with a blind date.

"Damn, I look good," Tali said admiringly. "I may need to borrow that dress from you in the future."

"It's all yours," Hermione responded with a laugh. "Wish me luck."

Tali kissed both of her cheeks. "You're going to have a great time. I just know it. But remember, this stuff is only good for exactly five hours, so keep an eye on the time!"

"Thank you, fairy godmother," Hermione quipped before Apparating away.

Hermione arrived outside the restaurant in Diagon Alley at three minutes before seven. She scanned the street for her date, forgetting for a moment that he would look like Marco.

The man who wasn't Marco turned the corner at the other end of the block and jogged her memory. When he saw her, his step stuttered for a moment, as though he had forgotten she would look like Tali as well. He was dressed in a white shirt and a gray suit that looked a little long for him — he was probably slightly taller than Marco when not polyjuiced — but was otherwise very nice.

When he reached the front of the restaurant, he approached her and held out his hand. "Hi."

"Hi," Hermione replied, shaking it politely. "I'm, uh… You can call me… Emilia."

"Emilia," the man said slowly, "you can call me… James. Yeah, James."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "We're a bit ridiculous, aren't we?"

"Eh, maybe that will be half the fun of tonight," he replied. He offered her his arm. "I believe we have reservations for seven. Shall we?"

Hermione took his arm and allowed him to lead her into the restaurant. The lights were dim, and the tables were spaced out, giving diners as much privacy as possible. The hostess led them to a booth in the back corner of the room. Its velvet curtains were tied back with golden, tasseled ropes, and a magical lamp flickered warmly on the table.

Their waitress appeared out of nowhere. "Can I start you two off with anything to drink?"

"Could we see your wine list?" Hermione asked.

"Of course." A pair of small menus zipped through the air and landed in the hostess' hand. "Here you are."

Hermione studied the list for a moment. "I'll have a glass of the burgundy."

Her date nodded. "I will as well. In fact, we'll take the bottle."

The waitress took their menus and disappeared again.

"The whole bottle?" Hermione asked.

James shrugged. "Best case scenario, we have a great time and stay here until the bottle's finished. Worst case scenario, we have a terrible time, drink it quickly so that we can get through dinner, and never have to speak again."

Hermione found herself laughing again. "Prepared for all possible outcomes. How very responsible of you."

"I've _become_ very responsible," he replied with a smirk. "But that's not to say I didn't have a bit of an adventurous streak when I was younger."

"Adventurous, huh?"

"Nothing too crazy," James said quickly. "Just a bit of sneaking around Hogwarts, getting into typical trouble. Things everyone does. I just did quite a bit more of it than I probably should have."

The way he said it made Hermione think he wasn't telling her the whole truth, but she didn't really mind. It was a blind date. With a man she'd probably never see again. To her surprise, she felt a little sad at the thought.

"So tell me a little about yourself," James encouraged her.

Hermione faltered at the thought. "What would you like to know?"

As if sensing her discomfort, he leaned forward slightly and smiled. "It's okay. I know you work at the Ministry, but that's it. I'm not trying to make you give yourself away. So let's start with something simple. What's your favorite color?"

"Blue."

She'd opened her mouth with every intention to tell a little white lie, but there was a sincerity to James' eyes that made her _want_ to tell the truth. Merlin, she was beginning to think she might enjoy the date after all.

"There are all kinds of blue," he said. "Sky blue, turquoise, navy—"

"The color of the Caribbean Ocean," she murmured, looking down at the napkin in her lap. "When you're out so far that you can't see land anywhere. It's somewhere between royal and navy, and I swear you can just get lost in it. It's beautiful. My parents took me there on vacation when I was younger, and I can't wait to go back again."

She raised her eyes and found James smiling at her warmly.

"Blue is my favorite as well. I love the color of the sky on a clear autumn day, when there's not a cloud in the sky. Perfect flying weather."

"You'd fit right in with my friends." Hermione giggled. "They're all obsessed with flying and Quidditch."

"But not you?" James asked.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't care much for either. I do know quite a bit about Quidditch, but I only learned so I could understand the game and support my friends."

"Wow," he murmured. "Talk about a good friend."

The waitress appeared again, armed with an open bottle of red wine and two glasses.

James poured them each a drink and raised his glass. "To the best blind date I've had in a long time."

Hermione clinked her glass against his and shot him a curious look. "We haven't even ordered our food yet. How can you know it's going to be such a good date?"

"Sometimes," James said with a wink, "you just know."

* * *

James hadn't been wrong. By the time they ordered food, they were laughing like old friends. He offered her a few bites from his plate, and she reciprocated. It was the same thing she did when she went out to eat with Harry, because it allowed them to try more dishes. They did drink the first bottle of wine quickly, but rather than rush through dinner, James ordered another, which saw them through dessert as well. When they'd lingered in the restaurant slightly longer than was acceptable, Hermione reluctantly suggested that they should leave.

James helped her into her jacket, and they exited the restaurant, both looking a little sad that their evening was already over.

"I suppose this is it," Hermione murmured.

"It doesn't have to be," he replied. "If you'd like, I could walk you home."

"I live in a Muggle flat in London," she said doubtfully.

"So do I," he said. "If it's too far to walk, we can take the Tube part of the way."

Surprised, Hermione felt herself nod and took his arm. James was just full of surprises.

They were already through the Leaky Cauldron gate when she came to her senses. "You must be a Muggle-born."

James shook his head. "Half-blood. But I was raised in the Muggle world. Honestly, I'm probably more comfortable there than in the magical world."

She hummed lightly. "Me as well."

Hermione gave him directions as they walked, continuing their earlier conversation as they went. She needed to keep talking to get her mind off the pain in her feet. Why had she chosen these shoes? Oh right, she hadn't planned on meeting an amazing guy and wanting to spend the evening walking around London with him.

When they were only about halfway to her apartment, she pulled James to a stop. "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to Apparate home. I don't want to, but my feet are killing me, and I can't keep walking in these shoes."

James looked around surreptitiously. "I could transfigure them into something more comfortable if you'd like."

"If only," she said sadly. "They've got cushioning and stability enchantments, like most heels. If we transfigure them, the enchantments will probably be broken. I'd have a harder time wearing them after that."

"And I would like to see you in those shoes again," he said, grinning.

"It's been lovely, James—"

She broke off when she saw him bend down to untie his own shoes. "What are you doing?"

"They'll be big on you, but at least they won't hurt so bad."

"You want me to wear _your_ shoes?"

He held up his black dress shoes in triumph. "That's the idea."

He led a shocked Hermione to a nearby bench and dropped to his knees in front of her. With nimble hands, he unbuckled one of her sandals. The relief of having her shoe removed snapped Hermione back to reality.

"Are you going to walk home in socks?" she hissed. "That's completely unsanitary!"

"Is there anyone around?" he asked in reply.

Hermione did a quick inventory of the area. "I don't see anyone."

By the time she looked back down, James was stowing his wand, a conjured pair of short black socks in his other hand. He carefully traded her shoes for his, and when he was finished, he pulled her to her feet.

"Shoes are one thing, but I figured you didn't want to wear my socks as well. Better?"

"Much," she murmured. She looked at him in amazement. Never had a man done that for her, just to save her from her own poor choice in footwear. Who was this man, and where had he been hiding?

She immediately tugged him out of the glow of the streetlight into a small alley shrouded in darkness.

"Keep a lookout," she instructed, pulling her wand from her black clutch.

Hermione knelt by James' feet and began casting. A few moments later, she popped back up. "There. At least you won't get hurt or get your feet wet."

James bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Awesome! What did you use?"

"Nothing big. Just a Cushioning Charm and a modified Imperturbable Charm."

He glanced back up at her, impressed. "Very nice. You know, you kind of remind me of a friend from school. She's wicked smart and always knows just what to do in situations like that."

"Sounds like my kind of girl," Hermione said with a laugh.

Not long after, they made the final turn onto Hermione's street.

"This place looks awfully familiar," James muttered under his breath.

"This area's actually pretty popular with Muggle-borns," Hermione replied. "I think there are several other witches and wizards that live on my street. Maybe you've visited one of them."

"Maybe," he said slowly.

Hermione brought them to a stop in front of the old, well-kept brick building that housed her flat. "Well, this is me."

"I had an amazing time with you tonight," James said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

She leaned into his touch. "I did too. I can't believe I'm saying this about a blind date, but I'd really love to go out with you again sometime. Preferably soon."

James chuckled. "I feel the same way. I almost hate to tell you goodnight—"

He broke away from her gaze and glanced up at the building. A look of shock froze his face.

"There's no way," James breathed.

Before she could ask what he meant, Hermione felt a strange twisting in her chest.

"Quick, what time is it?" she cried.

"Just about midnight."

"I need to…"

Her words trailed into nothingness as she watched as James' form began to shift and stretch before her eyes. A second later, she felt her own body begin to ebb and flow in a familiar way.

_Well, this wasn't really how I planned to reveal myself, but I'll get to see what he looks like too,_ she thought. _At least now I'll know who to dream about tonight._

As the shifting ceased, Hermione finally opened her eyes to see the amazing man she'd spent the evening with.

She blinked once, twice, three times.

" _Harry_?"

" _Hermione_?"


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it took WAY more time to get this last chapter posted than I originally anticipated. Work has been insane and basically taken over my life lately, so thanks for sticking with me. I really really appreciate all of your feedback and support! I need to give one last huge thank you to metaphasia for their incredible beta work because this story wouldn't be worth reading without it. Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Without a word, they climbed the stairs to Hermione's flat, went inside, and flopped down side by side on the couch. A chasm of silence stretched between them, growing deeper with each passing moment.

Finally, Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She said the only words that were circling around in her brain.

"I can't believe it was you."

Harry turned his head to look at her and raised one eyebrow. " _I_ can't believe it was _you_. Though now that I think about it, I think those are the earrings I gave you for your birthday. I should have recognized those."

"And I saw your wand as you put it away," Hermione moaned. "It didn't even cross my mind that it could yours."

Another beat of silence.

"We used to be so good at figuring that kind of thing out," she muttered.

"Yeah. I reckon we've lost a step or two," Harry said with a snort.

Hermione snickered. "Maybe more than a few."

It wasn't much of a laugh, but it was enough to start a cascade of giggles. Soon enough, they were both doubled over, struggling to breathe through their fit of laughter. Neither was sure just what they were laughing at, but they were glad it melted the tension away.

Wiping tears from her eyes, Hermione took hold of Harry's hand.

"What are we going to do?" she asked quietly, her seriousness returning.

Harry took a deep breath and looked her in the eye for a long moment. "I didn't know it was you when I said it, but I still meant it. I didn't want to say goodnight to you outside your building. I didn't want this night to end."

"I didn't either."

"Hermione," he said, taking her hands in his. "I think we could be really good together. We know each other inside and out. We've survived everything from war to exams to crazy expectations at our jobs. Now that I think about it, I don't know why I didn't see this in the first place. I think I've loved you a long time now. You're why no one else has ever measured up."

"I think I've been in love with you too," Hermione said, ducking her head to hide her blush. "I always thought I'd have to _find_ someone, and I didn't think to look right in front of me. No one has ever treated me as well as you. There's certainly no one I trust more than you, and I'm pretty confident you feel the same way. I think we've been loving each other a long time. We've just been too blind to see it."

Harry took her chin in his hand and pulled her up to meet his eyes. "I should have known it was you from the moment I heard you talk about the ocean. You have this expressiveness, this complete openness when you talk about things you're passionate about. It's one of the things I love most about you."

"I should have known by the shoe incident. I've never known another man that would give a woman his shoes just so she could be comfortable," she murmured. "But of course it would be you. My sweet, chivalrous Harry."

Harry pouted. "Hey. I'm not _sweet_. According to _Witch Weekly_ , I'm daring and roguish."

Hermione leaned her head on his shoulder and sniffed a laugh. "Of course you are dear."

They fell silent again, but this time it was the comfortable silence of two people completely at home with each other.

"You know we were set up," Harry finally said. "Not just on a blind date. Our friends knew that we knew each other. There's no way they didn't."

"Definitely," Hermione agreed. "I'm assuming Marco is your Auror who transferred from Italy, not Spain."

Harry winced. "Yeah, I'm really bad at remembering that kind of thing."

Hermione nudged him softly. "I know."

"And I'm going to assume that Tali is your friend from the think tank."

"She's the one."

"God, she is a determined woman."

"Tell me about it," Hermione groused. "Though I can't really be mad at her about it this time."

A moment later, a dangerous grin crept across Harry's face.

"Oh no, I've seen that look before," Hermione groaned. "Tell me what you're thinking so I can tell you it's a bad idea."

Harry snickered. "Oh, it's a great idea. I think we should play our own little prank on Tali and Marco."

Hermione looked amused. "Looking for a little payback?"

"Nothing of the sort," Harry said innocently. "Just a little reminder that, while we're thankful for their meddling—"

He looked down at her, a little concerned. "You're thankful for their meddling too, aren't you?"

"This time, yes," Hermione said, squeezing his hand.

"Right. While we're thankful for their meddling this time, we won't take it politely again."

Hermione smirked. "Now _that's_ a plan I could get behind."

She pulled a spiral notebook from her desk, grabbed a pen, and looked at Harry. "What did you have in mind?"

They spent the better part of an hour scheming, and when they were finally finished, it was after one in the morning.

"I should probably be getting home," Harry mumbled.

Hermione yawned, stretching her arms over her head. "I hate to admit it, but you're probably right. I'm exhausted."

She stood and walked him to the door. Harry reached for the knob, then he turned back to her.

"Since we're together now," he said, placing his hands lightly on her hips, "does that mean I get a goodnight kiss?"

Hermione smirked at him. "I suppose it does."

She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his in what was meant to be a chaste kiss. She didn't anticipate the magnetic pull of Harry Potter's mouth. What started as a quick peck on the lips quickly turned into the hottest snogging session of Hermione's life, right against her front door.

Finally, Harry pulled away, gasping for air. "If I'm going to leave, I need to get going."

"You could just stay."

Hermione was a bit shocked at herself. She'd never said that on a first date, but as it rolled off her tongue, she found she _really_ meant it.

"Don't tempt me, witch," Harry said, nipping softly at her lips.

"But it's so much fun."

"You're going to be the death of me," he muttered into her hair. He dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead and stepped back from her.

"Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight, Harry."

* * *

Hermione woke up the next morning and immediately checked her appearance in the mirror. She looked a little haggard from staying up late, but not nearly enough for what she had in mind. She added a bit of well-placed make up, thought about sad kittens, and then went to make her Floo call.

"Tali!" she called hoarsely into the flames. _Very convincing!_ she mentally congratulated herself.

The woman quickly appeared in the embers, still wrapped in her dressing gown. "Hermione, dear, what's wrong?"

"I thought you said he was a good match for me!" she wailed. Out of view of the flames, she pinched her arm to help bring tears to her eyes.

"Did you not have a lovely time last night?" Tali asked, her voice filled with alarm.

"Are you kidding me?" Hermione screeched. "I barely made it through dinner. I swear to you now, I'm off the market forever. And this time I mean it."

"You're just upset right now," Tali soothed. "Why don't you come over for breakfast and we can talk about it."

"I'll be right over," Hermione promised. "And we _will_ be talking, particularly about your taste in men."

With that she ended the firecall and allowed herself a peal of laughter. She didn't want to keep Marco and Tali out of the loop for _too_ long, but messing with them was turning out to be quite fun.

* * *

Marco heard his wife answer the firecall, but by the time he came downstairs a few minutes later, Tali was through talking. Instead, she was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace as she wrung her hands.

"She didn't have a good time," Tali said to her husband. "How could she have had a bad date with Harry? I had that gut feeling, the one I get about couples sometimes. I know you don't put much stock in Divination, but I swear to you, it's real. Sometimes I just know that people are meant for each other, and I know that Harry and Hermione are supposed to be together. How did this go so wrong? I don't know what—"

Marco wrapped his arms around his wife and felt her sag into them. Sometimes it was the only way to calm her down when she got wound up.

"I know what you felt," he whispered in her ear. "And by now I trust your gut feelings about as much as any fact or piece of evidence. But you can't control timing. Maybe their timing is off. Both of them are very busy due to work, and they're probably really stressed out."

Tali perked up a bit at the thought. "Maybe so."

"Did she figure out who he was?" Marco asked. "Maybe she doesn't have to know yet that her terrible date was with Harry."

"I don't think the date lasted long enough for the potion to wear off," she said brightly.

He leaned down and kissed the very tip of her nose. "Then there's hope yet."

And that's how Hermione found them, wrapped in each other's arms in their living room.

"I'm sorry for just barging in like this—" Hermione began.

"It's no problem," Tali said quickly. She gestured toward the sofa. "Why don't you and I have a seat. Marco would you mind putting the kettle on? I think we could all use a nice strong cup of tea."

"Of course, dear."

As Marco left the room, Hermione turned to Tali. "I know you tried, but I need you to tell me who that man was so that I can make sure I never see his face again."

Tali slumped back against the cushions. "I can't tell you that. I promised I would keep his identity a secret, the way I did for you. And I know your date. Surely it wasn't all bad. Wasn't there anything you enjoyed from your evening together?"

"Yeah," she said with a snort. "I liked the leaving part."

"Now Hermione—"

Tali was interrupted by a pounding at the front door.

"Marco!" a voice called from outside. "Marco, open up! I need to have a word with you, _now_."

Hermione fought not to snicker as all the blood drained from Tali's face.

"Let me just go grab Marco so that he can answer that," she muttered as she dashed into the kitchen.

A few seconds later, Marco was sprinting for the door. Tali looked like she wanted to sit on the opposite side of Hermione so that her guest would face away from the door, but Hermione had shifted during the brief interlude. Tali was forced to sit with her back to the door, leaving Hermione with a clear view of the drama unfolding nearby. Tali poured the tea quickly and tried to block Hermione's line of sight to the door.

"Remind me how you take your tea," Tali said loudly, trying to drown out the voices at the front door.

"One sugar, please," Hermione said sweetly.

Tali picked up the sugar bowl and nearly dropped it when she heard the front door slam shut.

"Tali," Harry said gruffly, "I need to—"

His eyes cut to the other figure on the couch. "Hermione? What are you doing here?"

"I'm having tea with Tali," she said. "She's one of the researchers that I have lunch with regularly. We're talking about the terrible date she and Marco set me up with last night. What are _you_ doing here?"

"Marco works with me," Harry said slowly. He sat down in one of the spare chairs. "Funnily enough, he and Tali also arranged a date for me, and it was awful as well."

"Yes, well, you know I fancy myself quite the matchmaker," Tali said nervously. "I set people up all the time. Tons of couples, really."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, and she looked back at Harry. "Where did you have dinner last night?"

"We were at that new restaurant in Diagon Alley, the one that's really dark inside." Harry looked at her warily. "We had reservations for—"

"—seven o'clock," Hermione finished.

The pair looked at each other in feigned horror.

"We went on a date together?" Harry asked Tali.

"Yes," Hemione cut in, "and apparently it was terrible for both of us."

She turned to her friend. "Why did you think this was a good idea? People have been shoving us together for ages, and we've fought it tooth and nail. I don't appreciate being manipulated like that."

"I just… I found out you were best friends," Tali murmured, tears threatening in her eyes. "When I realized you knew each other so well — exactly what each of you is looking for in a partner, by the way — I just had to try. So I lied to you. And I'm sorry about that."

"I lied to you, too," Marco interjected softly. "I would also like to apologize."

"Sometimes I just get this gut feeling, you know," Tali continued. "I don't want to call it some kind of Sight, but that's the best analogy I have. Sometimes, I just _know_ when people are meant to be together. And you two!" She gestured to Harry and Hermione. "I knew in my gut, my heart, my soul that you two were meant to be together. I just had to get you to look at each other as something other than a friend. I really thought that would work."

Silence, tense and heavy, filled the room for a moment.

"It's a good thing you were right," Hermione muttered under her breath.

Tali's head whipped toward her. "I was _what_?"

Hermione and Harry shared a glance and then grinned at her in perfect unison.

"You were right, of course," Hermione said. She stood and walked over to where Harry was sitting, and he pulled her into his lap."We talked for hours last night and had an amazing time."

"We were shocked as hell when that potion wore off though," Harry added.

Hermione patted his arm in agreement. "When we realized we were on a date with each other, we sat down and had a long talk."

"And we realized that we'd loved each other a long time," Harry continued. "We just hadn't seen it because we only saw each other as friends."

Tali finally seemed to unfreeze. "Then why did you come here and—"

Hermione held up a hand. "As much as we appreciate you meddling _this_ time—"

"—we'd really appreciate it if you didn't do it again," Harry finished. "Friends don't toy with friends."

Tali put a hand over her heart in relief, then she raised it to the sky. "You have my word, never again."

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly.

"But I was right," Tali pressed. "You two are pretty perfect together."

Hermione looked at Harry, and she smiled. "Yeah. I guess we are."

Harry pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "But I think we're both swearing off blind dates. For good this time."


End file.
